Between Duty and the Heart
by Arxael
Summary: An arranged marriage to save a dying economy... How will Ike of Altea react to having the object of his affection, the unattainable prince Marth, stripped away from him? Or, could love blossom from the heart of another hurt swordsman? Ike/T.Link Crack!


Between Duty and the Heart

Part I

A/N [Ao]: Yeah, before you read this, I want to make it absolutely clear that you are not really supposed to take this fic seriously... Unless you _really _want to, in which case, you're not allowed to come after me with mob-style pitchforks if you don't think _I'm_ taking this seriously. I'm really not. And, on that note, onto the first chapter! In which Ike is a melancholy little tart, and Marth is less than helpful...

[Oh, and this hasn't been beta'd, so if you find any mistakes, please point them out ;] ]

It was fast approaching the eighteenth hour, and as if through a cosmic kaleidoscope, the skies above Altea were fast melting from a pure, ocean blue, into a fiery, hell-like orange. From inside one of the palace's highest dormitories, a young swordsman named Ike watched the picturesque sunset through his open window, a deep sense of agony pooling in his wonderfully turquoise eyes. Stealing his last glimpses of the landscape as the sun's final shimmering rays danced upon his face, he finally drew his eyes away from the glass, and catalogued the image into his memories... For soon, the only keepsake of his life in Altea would be those blurred visions of the mind, only to be thought about when loneliness sauntered along and opened the deep trove of nostalgia.

It both worried and angered him that the feeling of emptiness would be consuming him a lot more in the near future; after all, now he had nothing to look forward to, or to dream for. _Okay_, so perhaps he _could _lie awake and wish for his dreams; and indeed, nobody could be there to stop him from whispering the name of the object of his affection like the climax of a feverish prayer; but what would it all amount to? What would it bring about, except perhaps a more hurried path to self destruction?

No: he could do nothing about it. Prince Marth was getting married to princess Zelda of Hyrule, whether he liked it or not. And resenting the fact wouldn't exactly help his cause.

And yet, it wouldn't be _so bad_. His heart may have healed to something that could have been repaired, had Marth just gone away, leaving only ghostly memories to linger in his subconsciousness. As it happened, Ike didn't even have _that _for solace, because instead of just leaving him be, Marth had insisted, _under royal command, _that Ike had to come to Hyrule as well. As the groom's ring bearer.

Oh, how fate had a horrible tendency to rub salt into the wound!

He wouldn't feel so bitter, but it's the awful fact that he is going to have to stand at that wedding, a fake, painful smile plastered onto his face, and watch what can only be the most loveless, politically-fuelled shot-gun wedding of all time. The product of a desperate kingdom trying to save their dying economy, and a slightly more shameless kingdom marrying off their princess ASAP in order to maintain the title of a "kingdom".

Of course, the whole thing will be disguised as "true-love", and "a match made in heaven" (No, it's a match made in a _crisis), _but Ike knows better. The two "lovers" had only been writing to each other for two weeks, and after intercepting a letter or two from Zelda's mail bird (everything is fair in love... and love), Ike knew that the love could never be, due to one outstanding sentence:

"_Upon your arrival to Hyrule, I will make sure you have the best meal of your life! Nothing on the face of this planet can beat Hyrulian beef!"_

_Check mate, _Ike grinned malevolently, _Marth is a vegetarian, you stupid cow!_

He's just about to write a full list on why Zelda and Marth are 100% incompatible on a piece of a scrap parchment, when he hears a light rapping on his door at the other side of the room. Scrunching up the sheet in his hand in a hurried fashion, he calls, "Who is it?"

"Sir Ike? It's the prince's assistant," (_Slave, _Ike mentally corrects him) "he's rather curious of why you aren't attending the final banquet... It started a while ago."

Ike curses. He was sent to his room over an hour ago to get into something presentable for dinner. All he'd actually managed to do for the entirety of the time was look out of the window and mope... Basically, he was still wearing his stable clothes, from when he was preparing his horse for the journey ahead.

"Tell him I'll be down in a second!" Ike called, his booming voice slightly muffled by the thick garment he was pulling over his head. He waited for confirmation that the 'assistant' had gone, before stepping out of his mucky trousers (leaving dirt deposits scattered over the rather expensive carpet, but that mattered not), and bounded over to the pine closet at the other end of the room. It was virtually empty, for he had packed all of his clothes away only that morning, apart from a fine dragon-hide dress-tunic worn on special occasions, such as tonight. Hurriedly, he pulled on his white under-shirt, his grey leggings, and finally the tunic, and inspected himself in the mirror for only a brief second before bolting down the castle stairs, almost tripping on the way due to the half-done-up nature of his boots.

"_Where is my mind?" _he asks himself, pausing the tie his laces. But he knows the answer already. His mind and his heart are all with Marth.

–

Far away from the kingdom of Altea, where the sun still hangs to shine for another hour or so, a young boy stands hunched-back, shovelling coal into a hungry engine. He can't hear anything over the angry roar of the furnace, and he feels like it's destroying his eardrums, and slowly boiling him alive. Yet, he continues to feed the monster, keeping the flame alight as his own diminishes. And he knows the beast knows no compassion; if it did, it would die now, would stop carrying Link to the dreaded kingdom of his demise.

Alas, the storming engine is still gluttonous, and it will willingly feed on his despair.

Link doesn't know why he's even going. After he had saved Tetra – no, _Zelda, _he mentally corrects himself – he had expected more than just a small word of thanks. Actually, he hadn't even gotten a thank you... The princess just seemed to believe that it was Link's duty to save her, and hence, she was fully capable of just leaving him in the dirt.

And yet, for all the resentment he feels, he still can't help but wonder how it could have been different. How _he _could have been Zelda's special one, had he not been thrown aside like an undesirable dog.

Still, instead of just leaving him to wallow in his pain in peace, she had come running back to him when he had finally felt as if the wound was starting to close. Sure, not in the way he might have wanted her to come grovelling, but it was still enough to wrench the sore back open again... "Come back for my wedding", she had written, as if nothing had ever happened, "it would be great to see you again!"

And the stupid thing was, he was actually going. Ah, what a suicidal pursuit!

The journey to Hyrule was a long one, but he believed at the rate he was going now, he would make it by the morrow, so long as no shenanigans were to present themselves on the course of his train ride. The longest segment of his travels would undoubtedly be going across the long marshes south of Altea kingdom, but other than that, he saw no immediate cause for concern.

As he approached the fields outside of the great Altean marshes, he could see the sun begin to sink into the hills on the horizon, and wondered if Zelda's lover – a foreign prince, named Marth – was sleeping beside her, arms around her waist in a protective gesture of love.

Even if that was the case, he knew that the inferno of his anger out-shined any fiery passion, and he was going to show this by eclipsing this Marth fellow... Or, he'd simply combust, creating a raging supernova that would destroy everything in its path... Either way, he was going to harness the power of his inner-beast, and unlike Ganondorf, he was determined that his wasn't going to be beaten.

Suddenly, he can feel the fire reawaken in his soul, and he gains the will to plough on, all the way to Hyrule.

–

Zelda sits at the large, oak table, poking the food on her plate around with her fork, as if trying to arrange the various food-pieces in a logical order. However, much like the condition of her thoughts, the harder she tries to coordinate them into a pattern that made sense, the more distorted everything becomes.

Midna watches on, silently concerned about the usually-happy princess, and she damns that prince Marth under her breath. _He _was the reason Zelda was so messed up. She hadn't even met the man, and yet she was going to get married to him in a week or so, and she understood why that would play havoc with the princess' brain... She too knew what it was like to be obligated to do something for the sake of the people... But this wasn't compulsory. This should be avoidable...

Regardless, it was happening, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Zelda?" she whispers, gently nudging the princess' arm. The curious woman does nothing to acknowledge the touch, and merely continues to prod at her food. "Zelda, _please, _just speak to me!"

"I--" she stammers, closing her eyes as if in pain. And then, suddenly, she opens them again, and all emotion is drained out of them... Cold, icy eyes, as distant as an ice-burg out at sea. That's exactly what it's like trying speak to her at the moment... An impossible task, calling out to somebody so terribly far away, in a solitary space where they could not be reached. And, slowly, it's driving Midna insane.

"I just can't talk about it... I'm sorry." she finishes her previous sentence, and Midna feels more alienated than where she started. She has never pretended to be overly great friends with the woman, but she has never been held so far at arm's length before, and she feels somewhat abandoned... They're two creatures of a similar nature, and quite often, it has been Zelda helping her through the more difficult stages in her life.

All she wants is to be the same sort of strength in return.

They eat alone, in silence. Midna bothers not pursue the mater further, but merely waits, determined to be there for when Zelda comes back to her normal state of being.

However, far away from Hyrule, a feast takes place where there is more than enough talking...


End file.
